Reunion
by Laelyn24
Summary: Jack Kelly was the first to move on, but before he did the Manhattan newsboys made a pact: ten years from that day, no matter where their lives had taken them, they would come back to New York City and reconnect at Irving Hall.
1. No More Life on the Streets

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Newsies. The End.

Prologue

The summer of 1899 was one to remember, particularly for those who took part in the newsboys' strike against newspaper tycoons, Joseph Pulitzer and William R. Hearst, led by Jack Kelly and the Manhattan newsies. The boys from that summer would not stay newsies forever and by 1902 the majority of those involved left the Newsboys Lodging House in pursuit of a job that would take them further into adulthood and the next chapter of their lives. Jack Kelly was the first to move on, but before he did the Manhattan newsboys made a pact: ten years from that day, no matter where their lives had taken them, they would come back to New York City and reconnect at Irving Hall. At the time, each and every newsy had agreed to honor the pact, but ten years later would they all make it back to the old vaudeville theater where it all began?

* * *

Chapter One  
No More Life on the Streets

September 2, 1910

Sam sat on the edge of the pier, legs dangling inches above the water and watched the sun dip below the Hudson. Tomorrow would mark ten years to the day when the newsies made that pact and Jack Kelly walked out of their lives, aspiring for a life out west. It was almost difficult to image that ten years had actually gone by since that glorious summer at the turn of the century. And yet, reality had been much more slow and grueling on a day to day basis; those ten years seemed more like an eternity. So much had changed since those days of living off newspaper sales…

With only a glimmer of day light remaining, Sam stood and tucked his hands in the pockets of his trousers. Giving one final contemplative gaze across the water, he turned and began the trek home to his dumpy little apartment in Hell's Kitchen. It wasn't a particularly long walk, not by his standards. He had walked the length of the city and between the boroughs more times than he could count by the time he had turned eighteen. He knew the streets of New York City better than most and the back alleys even better. Sometimes just for fun, he would walk the streets with no destination in mind; it was simply a good reminder of where he had come from. He was a product of the streets and still struggling to get by on the wages he was making with his current jobs, but at least he had a place of his own. It wasn't much, but it was affordable and somewhere to call home.

Fishing in his pocket for the door key, he heard a rumble of voices arguing a few doors down. Stepping into the small room, he was greeted by the stale smell of cat urine, left over from the previous owner. If he had the time he would have ripped out the carpet, but at the end of a long day he was simply too tired to bother. He usually forgot about the smell after a few minutes anyway, having acclimated to the immersion. Opening the cupboard, he pulled out some leftover food and threw himself onto the bed, spooning the contents of the container lethargically into his mouth as he lie there, lost in thought.

He couldn't quite settle on a feeling about tomorrow's reunion. It was a day he had been looking forward to for the last five years, but now that it was staring him in face he felt less enthused by the idea of seeing old friends again. It made him nervous; surely some of them would have done well for themselves, better than he had managed at least. Many of them probably got married and had families. What did he have to show for the last ten years of his life? He was just happy to still be alive after a few dark years spent at the bottom of a bottle and on the doorstep of brothels. It wasn't easy but he had managed to get out of that pit. He crawled out of the bottle and never looked back.

It was all because of her.

He had been called Skittery in those days, when newspaper boys practically had the run of the city. She had been masquerading as a boy when they first met. Through a series of events – one that included him discovering first her true identity as a girl – a relationship blossomed, quickly budding into a romance. Three years they spent together, seeing one another through the challenging transitions that life threw at them. He loved her with every ounce of his being and was prepared to spend the rest of his life with her, but life could never look favorably upon him – so it would seem. The two parted ways in the summer of 1902 after rising differences took hold and no compromise was found. It tore him apart in more ways than she probably knew; he reached the lowest of lows during the years that followed, catching snippets on the progression of her life as time moved on.

He couldn't explain how or why, but one day his life snapped back into place. There truly was a purpose to it even if she wasn't a part of it. If there was any hope in ever getting her back, he knew he could not be living in such a desolate state. He knew he had to clean up his act. It was a long and hard road, but he managed the journey, even with a few roadblocks slowing him down. The mere thought of her had refurbished his life and the possibility of a restoring his relationship with her had pulled him from his own personal hell.

As he thought about it, it seemed a little foolish to have put so much weight on such an infinitely impossible situation. She might not even show up to their little reunion. This made no different to him anymore. He could only be grateful for what good it had done for his life – even if it was all for not. He was a better person for having lived to see the other side; more appreciative of the little things. His life was back on a track which projected a number of possibilities if he so desired. Again, he owed so much of his life to Claire Connolly – the good and the bad.

A shiver rippled up and down his spine as he imagined what tomorrow might bring. He could only pray that he still had a chance to make the most of this opportunity. It was something he had been waiting for, for a long time. He only hoped that things would work in his favor, and that he wouldn't make a mess of it all.

His eyelids, heavy from a tough week on the job, were no match for the reeling thoughts inside his head. They slid shut and allowed him a few hours of blissful slumber where the world was exactly as he wanted it to be.

* * *

_A/N: Well friends, I clearly cannot leave Skittery and Tug alone for too long. This is the final installment of the Tug Trilogy. _

_Leave me some love. _


	2. Ten Years Later

Chapter Two  
Ten Years Later

September 3, 1910

Sam had awoken refreshed and ready to start the day, which was an unlikely feeling for someone who typically worked two jobs. It probably had a lot to do with the newsies reunion being held at Irving Hall that evening. His stomach was all jittery with nerves and excitement. He was definitely feeling a lot better about the idea of being reunited with old friends. He had only kept in touch with a few of the boys whom he had called family during his teenage years, so it would be interesting to see where they had all ended up in their lives.

After running a couple of errands and futzing around the apartment for most of the morning, Sam decided to head over to Irving Hall and help with the set up for the evening's festivities. It was a gorgeous fall day in the city, not a cloud over head. The streets were overrun by pedestrians on their way to and from designated destinations – nothing out of the ordinary for the nation's largest metropolitan area. The smells varied from block to block as he passed vendors on the street corners, hollering that their product was the very finest in New York.

Turning the corner to where the old vaudeville theatre sat, Sam stood the distance and let the beauty of the building soak in. How was it possible that so many memories were attached to one building? Nearly every inch of Manhattan was covered with old memories, but Irving Hall seemed to hold a special place in every former newsies' heart. It might have been because this was where they had rallied against Pulitzer and Hearst; where they then celebrated the victory of the strike. It might also have been because it was the one place where they had been able to go for an evening of entertainment and frivolity. The fondness for the old theatre may also be linked to the exuberant former owner, Medda Larkson, who was a beauty on the inside and out. She had been a lady full of joy and passion, who simply adored the young workers of New York City; she was one of the few adult figures whom the newsboys had admired and respected.

He crossed the street and entered through a backdoor in the alleyway. He stood inside for a moment, listening for any sounds that might indicate the whereabouts of any inhabitants. It was just his luck that seconds later something fell with the impact of a sledgehammer to glass and was quickly followed by a loud, shouting voice. Sam had to take a step backwards to get out of the way as two children scampered passed him with fear-lit eyes as wide as saucers. With mild amusement he walked the narrow passageway that lead to the auditorium of the theatre. Hunched over a pile of shattered glass, cursing up and down, was his old friend and co-owner of the fine establishment, Anthony Higgins.

"You better not let Graziella catch you swearin' in front of the kids like that, Race," Sam said with a grin as the short Italian man spun around. "She'll have yer neck."

"If I told 'em once, I told 'em a thousand times," he replied exasperatedly, rubbing the back of his neck. "No runnin' in the auditorium when we've got the tables set up. They just don't ever listen."

"Well, if ya didn't have so many of 'em, you'd be able to keep track of 'em better," Sam replied with a grin.

"Watch it," Racetrack said warningly, but then broke into a grin and extended his hand to Sam. "Glad ya dropped by, Skitts."

Sam grinned at the use of his old nickname and shook Racetrack's hand. "Well, by the looks of it you could use the help."

The two men turned at the sound of pattering footstep. A small boy, who was the double of his father, hurried toward them.

"I got the broom, dad!" he announced and tried to hand it off to Racetrack. The older Higgins looked down on his son with an air of disbelief.

"Oh no, Tony, you're old enough to clean up yer own mess."

"But, dad-" he whined, trying on the puppy-dog eyes.

"No buts, young man. I told you not run around in here. Rosie will help you clean up when she gets back," Racetrack added, looking across the room for his oldest daughter. He yelled loudly, "Rosalie Maria Josephine Higgins!"

"She had to use the bathroom," Tony replied grumpily as he began to push the broken pieces of glass around the floor.

"How am I supposed to get Sophia down for her nap with all this noise?" interrupted the shrill and irritated voice of Racetrack wife, Graziella, as she stepped between one of the nearby curtained archways, a baby perched on her hip. She eyeballed her son, who coward under her gaze. "Anthony Michael Higgins Junior you will march yerself upstairs and finish your times tables when you've cleaned up. I will have no more nonsense until the naps are over!"

The boy looked mutinous, but nodded solemnly.

Turning, she smiled pleasantly at Skittery who had taken a step away during the family moment, "Hi there, Skittery. Come to help, did you?"

"Sure did, Ella. What's left to do?" he said, returning the smile. Racetrack was making eyes at him, trying to keep him from getting into the thick of things, but he was too late and Graziella started rattling off the list of things that still needed doing.

About two hours later after moving furniture and stage equipment, stocking the bars, and even washing dishes, they managed to get away from the direction of Graziella. Racetrack and Skittery snuck out to the alleyway for a well-deserved break.

"I tried to warn ya, Skitts," Racetrack said with a smirk.

Skittery shrugged. "Ah, well. I came over to help, didn't I?"

Racetrack nodded silently for a moment and then asked, "Lookin' forward to this thing?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. It'll be interesting," he replied quietly, trying to seem indifferent on the subject. "Who do ya think'll show?"

"If Jack doesn't come, I'll kill him," Racetrack joked, laughing; Skittery chuckled. "Actually, I ain't even sure who all will show. Graziella wanted to send word out, but seeing as I haven't exactly kept up with everyone it was nearly impossible. We're just gonna have to wait and see – should be a good night though."

"Yeah," Skittery agreed. "It's been a long time since I've seen most of them."

"Me too."

"Well, I think I'm gonna head home and put on something a little nicer," Skittery said quickly, hoping to avoid any awkward questions.

Racetrack pulled out his pocket-watch to check the time and nodded. "Sounds good – I should probably do likewise. Hey, thanks for the help, Skitts."

"Yeah, no problem. See ya later, Race."

* * *

Showered and refreshed an hour or so later, Skittery retraced his steps back to Irving Hall. Turning onto the street, he paused for a moment and drew in a deep breath. His insides squirmed with excitement and anticipation. This was it.

Caught up in the emotion and reverie, Skittery nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around, heart beating wildly. Standing there with that all too familiar smile on his face was Specs, bowler hat and all. The years had hardly aged the former newsboy. The sight of an old friend launched him back in time and he suddenly felt sixteen again.

"Sorry, Skittery," Specs said with a smirk as Skittery scowled and clutched at his heart. "I didn't mean to sneak up on ya."

Skittery's scowl was short lived and he smiled, shaking his head as if the fright had been nothing. His heart still pattered rapidly. "Yeah, it's all right, Specs. Like old times, ya know?"

Specs chuckled, looking past Skittery at Irving Hall.

"It really is." He sighed contently and then refocused on Skittery, patting him on the back. "So how ya been, Skitts? Yer lookin' good."

Skittery gave a small, crooked understanding smile. "Doin' a lot better than the last time ya saw me. I'm workin' a couple jobs. They keep me busy; there ain't much time for anything else. How 'bout you, huh? What're you into these days?"

They started toward the theatre entrance and Specs replied, "I'm really glad to hear that you're doin' well, Skittery. I'm living in New Jersey and actually workin' in the newspaper business – overseeing the printing and distribution for the local paper. It ain't a bad job."

There was a pause in their conversation before Specs asked, "So which of the fellas do you think will show up to this party?"

Skittery shrugged, pulling the door open. "It's you, me, Race, and Tumbler as far as I know."

"You can count me in that number too!" interjected a boisterous voice from behind them. They turned to see the glowing face of Nicolette Porter, better known to them as Inky. Hovering beside her was a tall and nervous looking man, eyeballing the building hesitantly.

"Inky Porter!" Specs said cheerfully, greeting her with a friendly hug.

"Ya look great, Ink," Skittery added, giving her the once over.

Inky rolled her eyes, but smiled embarrassedly. "You boys are too much. I feel more like a hot air balloon that's about to pop any second. Speaking of popping, I need a bathroom!"

"After you then," Skittery replied, holding the door wide for her.

"By the way, fellas, I'd like you to meet my husband, Connor. It's been years since anyone's called me Inky Porter. I go by Lettie Garrett now, but of course you all can still call me Inky. Oh dear, the toilet beckons." She made a face and then waddled hurriedly down the hall.

"Good to meet ya, Connor. I'm Sam Evans, but everyone 'round here calls me Skittery."

The two men shook hands and Specs introduced himself, "I'm Thomas Warder, but they call me Specs. Congratulations to you and Inky."

The man remained tight lipped and nodded curtly in response. Specs and Skittery exchanged a look.

"We should go inside and get a good table," Specs suggested motioning toward the archway that would take them into the auditorium.

"I'm going to wait here for Lettie," Inky's husband replied quickly, glancing down the abandoned hall in direction she had gone.

Skittery shrugged indifferently; glad to be rid of the grumpy man. Specs voiced his thoughts when they cleared a distance,

"Same old Inky, huh? I wonder how she ended up with that old stick in the mud."

Skittery shrugged. "I'm sure we'll be wonderin' how most people ended up the way they did. I often wonder the same thing about myself."

Specs patted him on the shoulder. "I'm going to say hello to the Higgins family. I'll be right over."

As Specs strolled over toward where Racetrack and Graziella had their children cornered, and by the looks of it were giving them a severe talking-to, Skittery moved to the bar. He ordered a glass of water. Leaning back against the counter, he turned in time to see Inky and her rigid husband enter the room. Graziella had spotted them instantly, wasting no time in greeting the new arrivals and ushering Inky to sit down at one of the tables.

Taking his glass, Skittery moved to another table, wanting to avoid any further interaction with Inky's husband, and lower himself into a seat that faced the door. It wasn't long before Specs and Racetrack joined him, awaiting the arrival of other former newsboys.

With the arrival of each new person, Skittery's heart leapt and then fell when it wasn't her. Soon the hall was filled with a pleasant buzz of chatter as friends got reacquainted with one another. Jack Kelly had arrived in a grand fashion, with a flourish of his white cowboy hat and a bow, those who had already been gathered erupted into a cheer as their fearless leader finally graced them with his presence. Another cheer broke out when David and his kid brother, Les, walked in the door. The auditorium was filling up, but there were still a few of their number missing.

Sitting around his table presently and talking animatedly were Tumbler, Specs, and Pie Eater. They were a good group to be in the company of, but Skittery couldn't help the pressing sadness that began to weigh him down as time slowly ticked away. He listened for a while as Pie Eater talked about his life as a chef on Coney Island, but eventually his mind drifted away from the conversation. After a while he felt someone nudge his shoulder. He looked up and Tumbler was sitting beside him, looking concerned.

"You all right, Skitts?" the boy asked with wide-eyes.

Skittery blinked a few times, once again convinced that he had traveled back in time. Through that innocent question, Tumbler had managed to become eight years old once more. Skittery had to remind himself that the boy he spoke to had grown to be much older than that in the last ten years, but the memory made his heart glow with appreciation for his youngest friend.

"Yeah, I'm alright, Tumbler," he replied, bending the truth slightly. He reached out for his glass, but found it empty.

"Ya thinking 'bout Tug?"

Skittery grinned and looked at the boy square in the eye. "Nah – I was actually thinkin' about Blink."

"He ain't here, is he?" Tumbler said, craning his neck to look around the room. He gasped slightly and returned to his seat; turning pointedly to Skittery, he whispered, "Look who just walked in."

Skittery straightened in his chair at the same time his heart jumped into his throat. His eyes moved to the doorway where she stood. Time had changed her appearance, but he would know that face anywhere. She was glowing as her eyes swept the room for a moment; then she looked back over her shoulder, motioning with her hand. At the blink of an eye there was a small child suddenly linked to her hand. Leading the child further into the room, Tug was greeted by those closest to her. After a moment, she looked over her should once more and grinned. Following her gaze, Skittery's eyes meet a sight that made his insides shrivel and his tiny flame of hope extinguish. He was thankful that all of the glasses on the table were empty because he would have reached for the first one available had there been any, alcoholic or not.

At the very depths of his being, he had known this was always a possibility. He had set the bar fairly low, reminding himself continually that she could be married with children. Although it would have been heart-wrenching to see her with another man, he could have accepted the situation. But the reality now laid out in front of him was nothing he had imagined – nothing could have prepared him for this. The man that had joined her was presently being greeted enthusiastically by all the others…

because the man was none other than Andrew "Mush" Meyers.


	3. Seventeen Again

Chapter Three  
Seventeen Again

Skittery felt as if he had been hit over the head with a shovel – a shovel filled with pure, concentrated shock. He could do nothing more than stare as the scene unfolded like that of a picture show; there was a complete disconnect from the reality of what was happening…

And then the world realigned itself and reality snapped into place. He was truly present in the moment. Claire Connelly was standing across the room at the side of Mush Meyers, who was holding the accompanying child in his arms. Both wore glittering smiles as they happily traded life stories with those who had gathered. Skittery felt heat rush to his cheeks as fury bubbled inside of him. His fury, however, was nothing compared to the embarrassment that was slowly surfacing. Why had he wasted so much time thinking that anything good would come out of this night? He was just glad he had not shared his desires with anyone else; that would have been mortifying!

"You alright, Skittery?" Tumbler asked for the second time that evening, noting the change in his friend's complexion.

Realizing that his emotions were becoming visible to others, Skittery rose from his seat and grunted, "I'm gonna step out for some air."

"Want some company?" Tumbler asked as he shared a knowing look with the two other newsies at the table.

"If you want to, kid." Skittery strode away from the table without another word.

Had it really been seven years since she and Mush left the city, moving to Albany and starting a whole new life? Standing in front of Irving Hall, under its bright yellow lights, seemed to wash those last seven years away. She felt seventeen again. All the memories, the good and the bad, came flooding back as though it had just been yesterday: the rally during the strike, the victory party, the dances, the fights and the love she had for each of her newsy friends. A chill ran up her spine and she glance over at Mush, taking a deep breath.

"Are you ready for this?"

Mush smiled. "Feels odd, doesn't it?"

It was in moments like this that she loved how in tune with her feelings he could be. She grinned and nodded. "Yeah, it does."

"There is still time to change your mind. Nobody's seen you."

"I'm not changin' my mind. It's just – well, you know – there are a lot of memories in this place. It's overwhelmin'."

"I know," Mush replied. "Well, let's do this…"

Claire nodded, taking the lead.

Again, it was like a step back in time. The theatre was just how she remembered it, though the work that the Higgins' had done to bring it up to date was not to be overlooked. Reaching the top of the stairs, she could see the clusters of people in the auditorium. Her stomach leapt with excitement and nerves. She took another deep breath and plunged beneath the archway.

Looking around the room at many of her old friends, Claire couldn't help but smile. Quite a few people had shown up! She turned back to see Mush shaking hands with Itey. Celia had slipped from his grasp, so Claire gave her a look and held out her hand for the little girl. Holding her hand firmly, Claire walked into the room and was greeted enthusiastically by the group nearest to her. Celia clung to Claire's leg as Racetrack, Graziella, and Jack gathered around them.

Claire returned their greetings warmly and then looked back to Mush; he was missing the big entrance. He joined them and scooped Celia into arms, greeting his friends and introducing them to the little lady. Claire couldn't stop smiling. It felt good to be home.

Quite suddenly, she was pulled into an awkward hug – awkward because it was over the round belly of Inky Porter.

"I didn't think you were going to come!" Inky said, beaming. "I am so glad you did though."

"I almost didn't," she replied truthfully. "Mush had to do a lot of convincing. But, I'm actually really glad I'm here." Claire grinned. "You look fantastic, by the way!"

Inky pursed her lips. "I wish everyone'd stop sayin' that! I'm huge!" She laughed when Claire nodded. "So, how long are you in town for?"

"A couple of nights, I think," Claire replied. "It's easier on Celia – and Mush and I – if we space out the train rides. She is a handful right now."

Inky grinned and rubbed her belly, in only a few months she would have her own hands full. "Come on, let's grab a drink. We've got a lot of catching up to do!"

She was going to let Mush know, but he and Graziella were already introducing Celia to the Higgins' clan. Claire followed Inky to the bar, greeting others along the way. She also got the chance to meet Inky's husband…

"Inky, I gotta ask you a question," Claire said, after finally ordering a drink. "How'd you end up with a guy like that, huh? He seems like a bit stiff is all."

"He's a good man," Inky replied, casting a loving glance at her husband who was talking with Specs. She chuckled. "I think he's just overwhelmed by all of this. I mean, I've been tellin' him about the newsies for years. He was afraid he wouldn't fit in. And he isn't quite as big of a stiff as he seems, I promise."

Tug smiled. "Fair enough. I mean, I was nervous about comin' and we're all friends!"

"Yeah, I was a little nervous too. Being married and pregnant, and reuniting with an ex-boyfriend is not on my list of things to do often. It hasn't been as awkward as I thought it might be though. It is nice to see him and to know he is well and happy."

"Speakin' of potential awkwardness," Claire said hesitantly. "I thought I saw Skittery when I got here, but I haven't seen him since."

"Oh, he's here somewhere," Inky said confidently, looking around the room. "Connor and I ran into him and Specs when we were coming in. You're right though, I don't see him anywhere."

Claire frowned. It was the possibility of seeing Skittery that had caused her so much anxiety in coming to the reunion. Eight years had passed since they last spoke to one another. Occasionally a thread of news concerning him would find its way to her, mostly in Inky's letters. There was the one time Kid Blink came through Albany on his way to Boston. It was difficult to say whether he had planned the stop or if it had been chance that brought him to their diner, but Blink provided them with news of many of their friends. The worst of it was about Skittery. It was difficult to hear of his troubles.

"Is he doin' alright, do you know?" Claire asked.

"I didn't really get the chance to talk with him." Inky shrugged. "But he looked pretty good to me. Actually, you can see for yourself."

Claire's eyes followed where Inky's finger pointed to the backstage door. Like many of the boys, he looked a bit older, but not much different than when they were teenagers. He still had that stoic look about him, and the rolled-out-of-bed look that she used to love so much. As far as she could tell he looked a little worn, but nothing to be alarmed by.

"You gonna talk to him?" Inky asked, quirking a brow.

"Eventually, but I'm going to need a couple more drinks in me before that happens."

Calmed down a bit, Skittery stood just inside the room and scanned the scene. Claire was talking with Inky at the bar. Mush and Racetrack were across the room, laughing heartily about their conversation. Everyone seemed to be having a grand old time catching up on each others' lives. Again, he couldn't help but ponder the meaninglessness of his life over the past years; it had been such a waste. What did he have to show for it? Nothing. It was embarrassing. At least Mush was able to properly care for Claire. And it was for that reason Skittery made peace with the situation.

Crossing the room, he returned to his seat with Specs, Pie Eater, and Tumbler. He would talk with Claire at some point, just not yet.


	4. There's Still Time

Chapter Four  
There's Still Time

The evening was winding down and he still hadn't plucked up the nerve to talk to her. What was wrong with him? He had been waiting for this day for so long; the least he could do was say hello. But there hadn't been an opportunity to talk with her; she never seemed to be alone. She hadn't made a move to approach him either, so maybe she didn't want to talk to him. Skittery was making himself crazy with all the thoughts rattling around in his head. He had to do something about it.

He said his goodbyes to those sitting at his table. He then crossed the room to talk with Racetrack, shaking hands and bidding farewell to those along the way.

"Hey Race," Skittery said, reaching out to shake Racetrack's hand. "Thanks for doing all this. It was nice."

"You leavin'?" Racetrack asked, frowning, but accepting the handshake.

"Yeah, I gotta work tomorrow," he replied. "You gonna need any help with the clean up?"

"Nah!" Racetrack shook his head. "We should be alright. Thanks." Skittery made to leave but was called back. "Hey, Skitts…"

He turned. "Yeah?"

"Did ya even talk to her?"

He shook his head sadly. "No."

"There's still time," Racetrack assured him.

Skittery just shrugged. "What's the point?"

"Look, I'm comin' to check on you in the mornin'," Racetrack said flatly. "You better be there and you better be sober."

A half-smile pulled at Skittery's lips. "It's okay, Racetrack. I'll be fine."

The look his friend was giving him was not that of someone convinced, but Skittery appreciated the concern. All evening it had been a temptation, but he did not give in. He wouldn't give in.

He turned and left his friend's establishment, disappointed. The reunion, for him, had not gone as planned – not even close. He trudged down the block, his hands shoved in his pockets. At the corner he stopped and pulled out a cigarette and a match. The flame was just about to meet the end of the tube when he heard the distant sound of hurried footstep. His name echoed down the street, reverberating straight through his heart. He stopped in mid-motion, letting the flame extinguish, and glanced up the street.

Claire was moving quickly toward him. She slowed as neared and furrowed her brows. Skittery didn't move a muscle; he simply stared at her. Some things never change.

"You're really leaving?" she half stated, half asked. "It's been eight years, Skittery! I think I deserve more than a cold shoulder. I want to hear about your life. Aren't you in the least bit curious about mine?"

"I don't need to ask about yer life," Skittery grumbled, not really meaning to be unpleasant. "It doesn't take much to figure it out. As for mine, it went to shit and I only just recovered – still recovering, in fact. That's all there is to it."

She stared at him for a moment, perplexed by his bitterness. "You've got my life figured out? Well, that makes one of us." Frowning, she added, "What has happened to you?"

"Forget it. Go back to your happy little life and forget about me," he replied, turning away from her. He couldn't help it; anger was the only defense he had against the world.

"There are few things happy about my life, Sam Evans!" she said loudly, her voice wavering. "And it makes coming back here that much harder!"

Drawing in a deep breath, Skittery faced her again and frowned. "At least you've got something to show for it, being married and starting a family. I've got nothing but a couple of lousy jobs."

"What?" she replied, eyebrows flying upward. She looked wildly perplexed. And then her jaw dropped slightly as it suddenly dawned on her. She blinked. "Is that what you think? That Mush and I are married?"

Surprised by the mild accusing tone in her voice, Skittery felt a little confused. "Well, yeah."

"Mush and I are _not_ married," she said firmly. "And the little girl is Mush's daughter, not mine." She sighed, irritated. "Why is it that everyone's got to jump to conclusions instead of just askin', huh?"

"Yer not married?" he repeated, truly looking at her for the first time that night. His heart swelled ever so slightly, but he wouldn't let himself go overboard.

"No," she replied. "I'm not."

* * *

His heart felt lighter than it had in years. She wasn't married to Mush; she wasn't married to anyone. The two had been able to stay friends after ending their romantic relationship and became business partners, opening a small diner called _Gloria's_. A couple of years later Mush met and married a woman, Jane Lutheringer, and they had Celia almost a year later. But, just a year after Celia was born, Jane passed away. Since then Claire has been helping Mush to care for the little girl. It explained a lot.

Skittery felt a somewhat foolish for not inquiring more from the start; it would have saved him from the flood of negative emotions. None of that mattered anymore. After sorting out the misunderstanding, he shared a little bit about his life, not really wanting to go into full details right away about the hardships that he had endured. They parted ways, agreeing to see one another again before she left the city.

There was a knock at the door just as Skittery had finished tying the laces on his boots. Opening the door, he found Racetrack on the other side.

"Told ya I'd come check on ya!"

"I told ya I'd be fine," Skittery replied, smirking a little.

Racetrack arched an eyebrow. "Yer in a cheerful mood this mornin'."

Skittery grabbed his cap, shut the door, and grinned. "We talked last night."

"And?"

"I think I can get her back."


End file.
